


Starlight

by FuriousPoplar



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff, Gen, POV Second Person, Reader Is Frisk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-09 23:36:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8917702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuriousPoplar/pseuds/FuriousPoplar
Summary: Chara wakes you up in the middle of the night. They want to show you something, is what they said. You think they could have picked a better time than 12:00 AM on a school night in the winter, personally.





	

**Author's Note:**

> hey remember last time when I said I'd like to have a weekly upload schedule lol that isn't happening

                You wake to a hand bumping against your shoulder. Its owner looms over you, silhouette bold against the deep blue glow beaming in through the window. They’re staring at you with an expression you can’t make out in the dark. You catch their red eyes glimmering in the moonlight like rubies, and you won’t say anything because it annoys them to no end, but you think it’s pretty.

“I’m sneaking out. Come with me,” Chara asks. Their words hang above you with the gait of an order, as always, but if you were to decline, you know you would be met with no more than a huff and maybe a snarky quip in response.

You agonizingly roll your head over your pillow to get a look at your alarm clock. 12:21. You have school tomorrow; math in the morning, art in the afternoon. There couldn’t be a worse night for this.

You throw the covers off and stand up, careful not to step on one of the creaky floorboards. “Wake him up?” you ask, nodding towards Asriel on the other end of the room, sprawled out across his bed and drooling on his pillow.

They snicker, one part mean-spirited and another four as fond as can be. “Good luck with that,” they whisper, rolling their eyes. “No. This is us time,” they say, and your heart glows with a fuzzy, warm feeling. Us time. You don’t know when ‘us time’ ever became a thing, but you’re ready to welcome it with open arms. You nod and follow them to the window, not bothering to ask what’s wrong with the front door. It’s more fun this way.

They stop with one hand on the window’s latch and look you up and down, no doubt admiring your super cute heart-patterned pajamas. They give a small scowl. “Put something warm on,” they say, pointing towards the closet with a stiff, commanding arm the way you sometimes see Mom do. It sounds like an order again, but you’re not sure you could get away with insubordination this time. You could argue with them that your jammies _are_ warm, or that it isn’t _that_ cold out, but when you squint your eyes even further to get a better look at them, you see that they’re wearing their big brown winter coat and an extra pair of sweatpants over their pajama bottoms (the legs of which you spot peeking out over top of their boots, ordaining their ankles with a bright green flowery trim). They also have their backpack strapped snugly to their back, and it appears filled to capacity. Wherever they’re taking you, you’ll be out there for a while.

Carefully, you tip-toe to the closet and rummage around for something toastier. You put on a double-layer of socks, your steel-toe hiking boots, two extra pairs of pajama bottoms (sweatpants are dumpy and stupid and you won’t be caught dead with them on (they look alright on Chara though)) and the oversized purple hoodie you got from Sans. You also steal one of Chara’s many, many scarves. They knit one especially for you, of course, but you like wearing theirs.

You return and they take one look at you before their eyelids are drooping, unimpressed. “I said warm,” they say, glowering at your hoodie. “That is beyond inadequate.”  You fold your arms across your chest and stare back, defiant. At some point, a line has to be drawn. _“Is this the hill you wish to die on?”_ is something they ask you a lot whenever you’re being difficult. You imagine yourself proudly hoisting a flag atop a muddy mound of earth whilst Chara fires a mortar at you, and you smirk. You like this hoodie. And you’re gonna wear it. End of discussion. They roll their eyes again, likely having remembered exactly how impossibly stubborn you are. They yank the blanket from their bed and wrap it around your shoulders like a cape before sliding the window open and climbing out, motioning for you to follow. You shut the window as softly as you can behind you as you’re leaving; you don’t want Asriel to get cold.

They leap from the roof to one of the trees in your back yard, grabbing hold of a branch and letting themselves dip down to the ground before letting go. The whole tree rocks like a dog shaking itself dry, scattering snow all over the yard. You simply hop off and land on your back with a rough thwoumph. They dash over to check if you’re alright and you give them a thumbs-up while they glare daggers at you. “How graceful,” they grumble as they set off for the back fence, again motioning for you to follow, less patient now. They boost you over, since you’ve never been as good of a climber as they are. “ _Because you’re so small!_ ” you can just hear them saying, but it’s only gonna be another year or so until you’re as tall as them, so they can go shove it. They land next to you with both feet planted firmly in the snow and continue on ahead. You don’t move.

They notice your inaction immediately. “What’s the holdup?” they ask, sounding kinder than their question implies.

You pick at your nails, trying to put the weird, uneasy feeling you have into words for them. You consider telling them that you just have _cold feet_ , so that they’ll laugh, but they never let you get away with deflecting things. That’s something only they’re allowed to do, apparently.

“…What if Asriel has a nightmare?” you finally ask, standing on your tip-toes and taking a worried glance back towards the house.

“His always start at eleven,” they state matter-of-factly. “If he were going to have one, it would have happened already.” They narrow their eyes at you. “What, did you think I would leave him to fend for himself? Your faith is inspiring,” they say as they begin to move again.

You frown. “What if Mom has a nightmare?

They stop and spin themselves around with great effort. “If she did, she sure as hell wouldn’t tell _us_ , now would she? Do you not want to go?” they demand with a tone and a look you don’t like.

“It’s cold…” you say, trailing off with a shiver. “Where we going?”

“I want to show you something,” they lean towards you and whisper, like it’s a secret that they don’t want anyone but you to hear.

You hum at their vague answer.

“Do you not trust me?” they ask.

Your frown worsens. “I do.”

“Then…” they stop, and a guilty look washes over them. “I’m doing it again… I— It’s a surprise, okay? But if you don’t want to see it, I suppose I understand.”

You think for a moment, then nod, meeting their eyes with a resolute stare. “I do.” With that, they smile a small, sneaky smile that they probably think you didn’t see, and set off into Mount Ebott’s woods.

 

 

You get that they have this whole ‘wild child’ gimmick going and that they love nature and aren’t intimidated by it or any of its creatures, no matter how many sharp claws or teeth or gross slimy exoskeletons they have, but at the same time, you wish they would’ve picked a safer route than through the middle of the woods at midnight. You’re scared and you’re fully willing to admit it. You’re scared of being ripped apart by wolves, for starters. You’re scared of them being ripped apart by wolves, probably after trying to pet one of them. More than that, you’re scared that you’ll fall behind and won’t be able to find them again. And you’re always so quiet, so they won’t notice that you aren’t there anymore until they’ve already left you far behind, and then you’ll be alone, and then…

You shudder. You think they’d be happier with both hands free, but, selfishly, you take their left with your right and hold on as tightly as you can. You hug their blanket closer with your other hand. There’s an obvious jagged lump in their pocket, so they must have their knife with them. You breathe a hushed sigh of relief, and hate yourself for it. You’re ashamed to admit it, but you’ve always taken comfort in the fact that if anyone ever tries to hurt you, Chara will hurt them first.

You scan left and right alongside the beam of their flashlight as you hike. You also think they’d be happier with an oil lantern or a torch, and happiest with Asriel’s magic. They’re too old-timey and full of romanticisms to be fully satisfied by modern technology.

“How much further?” you ask, turning to double-check your footprint trail through the snow.

“It’s still a way’s away.”

You frown. “Will you be able to get us home after?”

They scoff. “Of course.” But they must have felt you tensing up, because they squeeze your hand and look back at you with a patient smile. “We’re not going to get lost. I have both of our phones in my pack, and there’s a brand new cell tower somewhere on the mountain’s summit, so we’ll have strong reception. If things become desperate, we can always call Mom. I would never have led you out here if I wasn’t certain that I could get you back home.”

Your grip on their hand loosens as you relax and return their smile. “What’re you showing me?” you ask, speeding up so that you’re fully beside them.

They shoot you a sideways glance. “If I told you it wouldn’t be much of a surprise, now would it?”

“Is it a gift?” you guess, undeterred.

They go silent with thought for a moment, a myriad of subtle faces betraying the back-and-forth of their inner monologue. You feel a pang of nostalgia, remembering what it was like to have to actually _listen_ to it. “In a way, perhaps,” they conclude.

“Is it a ring?” you ask with a cheeky grin.

“Why would I ever get you a ring…?” they wonder aloud, and your grin widens. “Oh,” they realize. “You would go there, wouldn’t you?”

You nod enthusiastically. They heave out a sigh, a big plume of wasted breath visible as it drifts away into the night. “No, I’m not going to propose to you,” they say, and you make a big show of sulking in heartbreak. They sigh again. “God, just— Mom put it best when she said she didn’t know if this was endearing or pathetic.”

“The first one,” you say, boastful. “You know it’s true.”

They grunt. “Yeah, whatever. It isn’t a ring. It’s also not a declaration of love or a smooch, before you ask.”

You hum, stumped. Well, now you’re out of ideas.

“Face it, pal,” they start, talking like over a decade of a missing ego had finally caught up with them, all at once. “I’m _completely_ out of your league, anyways,” they say, flipping their hair and turning their nose to the sky. You share a laugh.

 

 

The trees start to thin out the higher you go up the mountain, and you feel significantly more relaxed as it gets easy enough to see that Chara can flick off their flashlight.

You don’t recognize this part of the mountain; you’re nowhere near either of the entrances to the underground, so you can tell that’s not where they’re taking you. It’s for the best, definitely; you don’t really want to go back there, and even if you did, you’d have to sneak by all those science people keeping the Core running.

Your guesswork is cut short when Chara stops abruptly and turns to look at you. You’re on a mostly flat clearing, and can see the main body of the city in the distance, a big block of incandescent dots.

“Here we are,” they announce, shrugging off their backpack. They take a deep breath of frigid air and smirk, caught up in some bygone sentiment that you’ll never learn the meaning of, like an in-joke that you had to have been there to understand. They kneel down into the snow, pulling a big blanket out of their pack and draping it onto the ground. They take a moment to smooth out a few wrinkles before flopping onto it. “Lie down,” they order, and you obey, throwing yourself next to them.

It’s much comfier than you were expecting. You smoosh yourself into the padding of their coat and fold their blanket over yourself. “What did you want to show me?” you ask, still confused.

They don’t say anything. Instead, they point lazily to the sky. You turn to look, and your eyes widen. “Oh,” you say.

This high up and far from the city, there’s nothing to block out the night sky. A sea of stars engulfs your vision, each one shining like a gemstone. Each one floating interspersed amongst the milky off-white nebulas that you can usually never see. It makes you feel so, so small. And normally, you hate feeling small, but this time, you’re okay with it. As small as you are, you’re a part of something very, very big.

“It’s beautiful, is it not?” they ask, gently nudging you.

You nod. “Uh-huh.”

You catch them making a self-satisfied grin in your peripherals. “I thought you would like it. I’m going to have to bring Azzy out here, sometime.”

You shiver, the cold finally starting to get to you again. Chara sits up and rummages through their pack, producing yet another albeit smaller blanket and tall metal thermos. They drape the blanket over you without a word. “Hot chocolate?” they offer soon after, and you wonder when they had the time to prepare all this stuff, or how they even fit it all into their backpack, but you know better than to question their methods.

“Yes please. Thank you,” you say. You take a sip, and it’s still plenty warm, even after the hike. Delicious, too. As lousy of a cook as they are, they work wonders when it comes to drinks. You pass the thermos back to them, and they wipe all your icky germs off with their sleeve before taking a sip themselves.

“You really wanted to bring me here,” you say.

They shrug, falling onto their back. “What makes you think that?”

“You woke up in the middle of the night, packed a bunch of things to make sure that I’d be warm and safe and stuff, and took annoying ol’ me on a big hike up a mountain to show me some stars. That’s a lot of work.”

“You’re not annoying,” they say, pausing immediately after. “Well. Maybe a little, but in an endearing manner. Case in point, you think there’s some grand, important reason I brought you here.”

“Why did you bring me here?” you ask. They fall silent.

 

“These stars, they…” they hesitate and take a deep breath. “They remind me of you. Of meeting you. Way back when, they were one of the only good things in my life. Whenever I saw them, I felt this… this spark. This hope that if I didn’t give up, if I kept trying, no matter how much it hurt, I would get what I wanted. Peace, happiness, purpose, I don’t know, I just wanted to find it. I spent a long time searching for it. I made a lot of mistakes, searching for it. I never truly knew what it was, or why I wanted it, but… I think I understand, now. It’s you. It always has been. You and Asriel, you’re what I always wanted.

“So that’s why I brought you here,” they say with a shrug as they turn away. “Because whenever I see these stars, I think of you, and then I know I don’t have to run away anymore.”

You sniffle before you can stop yourself. They either don’t notice or don’t mind. “Thank you for showing me this,” you say, smiling even though they can’t see. “You’re the best sibling ever.”

They scoff. “Please. I am mediocre at best,” they say awkwardly.

“Don’t do that,” you say. “I’m really glad I have you.”

You feel them turn away further. Your frown worsens.

“I used to dream about what it’d be like to have a sibling,” you start. “I’d talk to myself and pretend I was two people. I didn’t get why all the other kids were always talking about getting into fights with theirs, I always thought that if I had one, we’d be really nice to each other and would be best friends.”

They make a soft, sad noise. You find and squeeze their hand.

“But then I met you, and— you helped me. You look after me an’ you keep me safe an’ you do nice things for me, and you care.  You’re always there for me.”

“Frisk…” they say, voice quiet.

“No arguing,” you interrupt. “It’s true. Even if you don’t believe it.”

They let off a short, airy laugh. You watch it float away as a little cloud. “Wow. Way to completely out-do me.”

“…I miss having you in my head, sometimes,” you tell them, voice quiet like you’re afraid they’ll actually hear. “I know that’s selfish. But I liked knowing I’d never be alone.”

They shake their head. “You— you still won’t. You won’t _ever._ I would never allow that to happen to you, as long as I live. I promise.”

A wavy smile spreads across your face. “Chara?” you ask.

“I’m here, Frisk.”

“…You’re what I always wanted, too.”

 

They wordlessly put an arm around your shoulders and pull you in close. You lean into the snuggle; you’re pretty glad for it, because you were starting to get cold again. You’ll never let them hear it, but they were right. The hoodie wasn’t quite warm enough.

“Hey. Don’t fall asleep,” they warn, jostling your shoulder. “I doubt I’m strong enough to carry you all the way back home, so I’ll have to roll you down the mountain, and then Mom will be mad that you’re covered in lacerations and dirt. And you know how it is; Asriel takes the fall, unless he’s not involved, in which case eldest sibling takes the fall.”

You giggle. “Rolling sounds fun.”

They hum. “It would be less rolling and more so tumbling a few feet until you hit a tree, and then me kicking you until you start moving again.”

“Still sounds fun,” you insist, their attempts to dissuade you completely ineffective. “Like soccer but with my face.”

They laugh. “Alright, look, I test Mom’s patience enough at it is. Don’t pass out on me.”

“But ‘m tired…” you mumble, burying your face into their coat.

“Then we should go home now and get you to bed.”

“Don’t wanna…”

“Then don’t fall asleep.”

“But ‘m tired…”

They grumble. “I’m going to dump hot chocolate on your face if you keep this up,” they threaten, possibly as a joke, possibly not.

“It’s cold by now,” you say, voice muffled by their collar. You’re proven wrong when a single drop lands between your eyes, and you squawk like a crow being hit by truck as they laugh their butt off.

 

Despite their pleas, you end up falling asleep anyway. And, despite their promise, you wake the next morning in your bed, un-lacerated and neatly tucked in. You have no idea they got you back into the house, or over the fence, or even down the mountain.

Then again, you know better than to doubt them.

 

 


End file.
